


Honeypot

by ellerkay



Category: White Collar
Genre: First Time, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: Peter bets Neal that Neal can't seduce him in a week. Guess who loses.





	Honeypot

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written when I was about halfway through season 3 of this delightful show, so apologies for any glaring canon inconsistencies I didn't know about. I COULDN'T WAIT TO WRITE THIS. THEY ARE UNBEARABLY SHIPPY.

_Sunday_

 “What was your favorite type of con?” Peter asked Neal. They were in Neal’s rooms; Peter was drinking beer, Neal had a glass of wine. Elizabeth had gone out with her girlfriends, and Peter had been bored enough to decide that socializing with Neal was a good idea.

“Theoretically?” Neal said. Peter smiled.

“Theoretically,” he agreed.

Neal thought for a second. “I don’t know if I have a favorite type…Theoretically, I would have liked something that let me use my art skills.”

“You mean, forgery skills,” Peter said. Neal gave him a withering look.

“Well, at least we can agree that it’s a skill,” he said. “So, yeah. Schemes where I could really use my talents. Not just art – I like anything clever and complicated. But not too complicated. At a certain point it loses elegance. Not to mention feasibility.” He grinned at Peter. “Theoretically.”

“What about a least favorite?”

Neal took another sip of beer. “Honeypots,” he said. “Seducing people for gain.”

Peter laughed. “Come on,” he said, off Neal’s look. “You flirt with just about everyone you meet.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like a little flirting,” Neal said. “I flirt with someone, we both feel good, and maybe I get a little info or access that I need. They don’t even know they’ve been had – or, they suspect that they were, but they had fun, so they don’t really mind. But I don’t like honeypots. They’re exploitative.”

“Oh, and you’re so above exploiting people.”

“Exploiting greed, or stupidity, or carelessness – sure. But there’s something cruel about taking advantage of someone being attracted to you. You don’t know their history, if they’re insecure or lonely…People get hurt.” Neal shrugged. “So, _if_ I were to run a con, I would find another way, if I possibly could. Honeypots are easy, but they’re unfair.”

“Oh, they’re easy?”

“Sure. I can seduce anyone.” He said it casually, taking another drink.

Peter laughed, and Neal raised his eyebrows at him. “Come on,” Peter said incredulously. “Even you can’t be that arrogant.”

Neal chuckled. “I’m not trying to be arrogant. I lucked out in the genetic lottery and I take care of myself. Objectively, I’m a good-looking person. If I need to, I can seduce pretty much anyone.”

“What about Calloway, during the organ trafficking case?” Peter demanded. “She liked _me_.”

“Yeah, you were more her type, and it was easier to just have you flirt with her,” Neal replied. “But if I’d had a little time to work on her, I could have gotten there.”

“What about straight men, or lesbians?” Peter said. “You can’t tell me you think you could seduce them.” Neal half-shrugged, smiling, and Peter laughed again. “Come on. Seriously?”

“Most people have at least a little curiosity about the gender they’re not primarily attracted to,” Neal said. “I fall somewhere between handsome and pretty, and I’m very charming. I think in nine out of ten cases, I could get where I needed to go.”

“Unbelievable,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Well, I promise you I would never fall for that.”

Neal grinned. “Nah,” he said confidently. “I could definitely get you.”

Peter froze with the beer bottle halfway to his lips. “No, you couldn’t,” he said. “I’ve seen all your tricks.”

“You’ve seen some of my tricks,” Neal said. “But either way, you’ve never had them directed at you.”

Peter put his beer bottle down. “Not in a _million years_ could you seduce me.”

“How about in a week?” Neal said. His grin had dimmed to an enigmatic half-smirk.

“A week?”

“Yeah. Two hundred bucks says I can get you into bed.”

“Two hundred dollars and all I have to do is not sleep with you for a week?”

Neal nodded. “You could take Elizabeth out to a nice dinner with a couple hundred bucks.”

“I don’t sleep with you _every_ week.”

“Then this should be very easy for you.”

Peter laughed. “All right,” he said. “You’re on.” He went to pick up his beer again, but Neal stuck out his hand. His expression was oddly serious now.

Peter laughed again, feeling a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. He tried to dismiss the feeling. This was a ridiculous joke. He shook Neal’s hand; Neal’s middle finger brushed against the inside of his wrist as he let go. _Cheap trick_ , he thought, although it was admittedly impressive how focused and intense Neal’s eye contact was.

“One week,” Neal said.

***

_Monday_

Peter told Elizabeth about the bet over breakfast the next morning. He framed it like the silly thing it was, laughing uproariously at the end, but she just frowned thoughtfully, nodding.

“Well, you can have one freebie with Neal,” she said. “But only with Neal, and we should talk about it afterwards. Definitely we’ll need to talk about it if you want more with him going forward.”

Peter blinked at her in astonishment. “Freebie?”

“Yeah, sex with him once is fine, but we’ll talk after,” she said.

Peter shook his head. “El, hon, I’m not going to sleep with him,” he said. “I would never do that to you.”

“Well, then it’s not a fair bet,” Elizabeth said archly. “You can’t just take his money if it’s impossible. So, I’m telling you it’s okay.”

“I’m not going to sleep with Neal whether I have permission to or not,” Peter said. He was starting to get annoyed. “He can’t seduce me.”

Elizabeth shrugged and took a bite of fruit. “Okay,” she said.

Peter didn’t like her tone. “What does that mean, ‘okay’?”

“It means, okay.”

“It was the way you said it! Like you think I’m going to lose.”

Elizabeth smiled, putting down her fork. “It’s just that he’s undeniably handsome and charming,” she said. “And you two are friends, or at least friendship adjacent, and you were obsessed with him for years.”

“No, I wasn’t!”

“You had to be, in order to catch him,” she said gently. “I’m not saying I think you’re definitely going to lose, just that…you might.” She picked up her fork and started eating again.

Peter shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he said, getting up from the table. “My own wife. You know, I was going to take you out to dinner with the money I won off him!” He walked off to get his shoes.

“What will you do with it now?” Elizabeth called after him. “If you get it?”

“There is no ‘if’!” Peter called back. “I’m winning that money!”

***

On the way in to work, Peter reflected that he probably shouldn’t even have told El about the bet. Nothing was going to happen; Neal would make a few dumb passes and then forget about it. He’d probably forgotten about it already. That would be for the best. This whole thing was ridiculous.

“What did Elizabeth say?” was the first thing out of Neal’s mouth, when he got to Peter’s office.

“About what?” Peter said.

“About the bet,” Neal said, sitting down and looking seriously at Peter. “I wasn’t really thinking about your monogamy when we made it.” He frowned. “I should call her and apologize.”

“No need,” Peter said. “We’re getting a divorce.”

“ _What_?” Neal actually looked worried. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Calm down,” Peter said. “Of course I’m kidding. But she said I could have a freebie with you if you won. So actually, no, I _am_ considering divorce, because she thought there was even a possibility you might win.”

Neal’s face relaxed and he laughed. “Well, she knows me,” he said. He handed Peter the small brown paper bag he’d come in with. “This is for you.”

Peter opened it, and blinked down at the contents. “This is – ”

“Your favorite scone, from your favorite coffee shop,” Neal said. “You’re welcome.”

Peter broke off a piece of the scone. “Thank you, but you’re kidding with this, right?” he said. “You’re going to seduce me with pastries?”

Neal just smiled.

“Wait, this place is outside your radius,” Peter said. “How did you – ”

“Relax,” Neal said. “Mozzie picked it up for me.”

“Did you tell him _why_?” Peter asked, horrified.

“I told him I had a craving,” Neal said. He gave Peter a smoldering look. Peter laughed.

“Good try,” he said. He ate another bite of scone. “How did you even know this is my favorite? I don’t remember telling you.”

Neal didn’t reply for a moment. “I pay attention to you,” he finally said, quietly. Peter looked at him, wide-eyed, but Neal only looked back silently, expression unreadable.

Peter cleared his throat, put the scone down, and brushed some crumbs off his hands. “Okay, well, let’s get started,” he said.

***

_Tuesday_

Peter and Neal were waiting for their coffee to be ready. Peter could see in his peripheral vision that Neal was staring at him. He tried to ignore it.

“What?” he said finally, when it became too annoying.

Neal smiled at him. “I like your tie.”

“You always hate my ties.”

“I like this one.” Neal reached out and touched the knot, dragging his finger down the tie for a few inches before letting his hand drop. It was weird, and that was why Peter felt strange and slightly over-warm.

“Did Elizabeth pick it out?” Neal asked.

“Yes,” Peter muttered, straightening the tie even though Neal hadn’t moved it at all.

Neal laughed. “She has good taste.”

“I think in her line of work, an eye for colors and patterns isn’t optional.”

“I wasn’t just talking about the tie.” Neal actually _winked_ at him. Peter laughed.

“Has a line that cheesy and transparent ever actually worked?”

“All the time,” Neal said. “But I wasn’t expecting it to work on you.”

“Then why say it?”

“You’re cute when you laugh.”

Peter was thrown for a second, then laughed again. “Yeah, I’ll just bet.”

Neal grinned at him. “You already did.”

***

_Wednesday_

They were reviewing evidence, and Neal was sitting way too close. All week he’d been invading Peter’s personal space. He kept too close when they stood or walked together. When he needed to say something private in a crowded room, he leaned in far further than necessary, his lips practically brushing Peter’s ear, his breath ruffling Peter’s hair. And now, they were at the table in the conference room and Neal was so close their elbows almost touched. And Neal kept jiggling his leg, so his knee sometimes actually did brush Peter’s, and Neal said nothing, like he was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t even notice it. As though Peter didn’t know perfectly well that Neal was not the kind of person to jiggle his leg.

Not that Peter was bothered by any of it.

At least, not for the reasons Neal obviously hoped he would be bothered by it. He would get hot with _annoyance_ , not arousal. Except with El, Peter had always preferred a little personal space. But if he said that to Neal, Neal would misinterpret it and smirk at him and think he was getting somewhere. No way. Better to endure the discomfort.

It _had_ been a bit disconcerting to realize that he knew what Neal smelled like. But, Peter reasoned, that could happen with anyone in your life, especially someone you spent real time with, and they’d been on stakeouts…It wasn’t weird.

It was a little weird that Peter found he liked Neal’s cologne now. He remembered complaining about it on their first stakeout, even though Neal knew how to wear it without drowning in it and it was, according to Neal, French and very expensive. Peter wondered if Neal’d switched to a new one, but thought he would have noticed if he had.

Neal had stopped jiggling his leg, but his knee was just full on up against Peter’s now, unmoving, while Neal read with great intensity. He had a little frown of concentration on his face, and Peter rolled his eyes. Overkill.

Peter ignored it for a couple minutes, but it was actually getting distracting, and so Peter casually swiveled in his chair away from Neal, looking through some papers on the other side. He’d probably lost face, but he couldn’t let Neal’s annoying little game actually get in the way of their work. And he could pretend he hadn’t noticed. Neal couldn’t know for sure.

Neal looked up when he moved. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“For what?” Peter asked.

Neal just grinned at him.

“Okay, whatever,” Peter said, going back to the evidence. Damn it. Neal knew.

***

_Thursday_

They were waiting for their coffee. Peter sometimes thought he spent as much time getting coffee as he spent doing actual FBI business, but the coffee fueled the work. He and Neal were both better when they were caffeinated.

Peter fiddled with his tie. He’d worn one today which he _knew_ Neal hated, hoping to needle him. But Neal hadn’t even appeared to notice.

When the barista – same one as Tuesday – handed Neal his coffee, Neal gave her one of his thousand-watt smiles.

“I’m glad you’re working again today,” he told her. “You make the best lattes.”

She beamed at him. Peter would have been prepared to testify that her eyes were actually sparkling.

“Only for my favorite customers,” she said. She and Neal held eye contact for a few seconds too long before she went back to pouring drinks, still smiling.

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Was that necessary?” he asked, when they’d left the coffee shop.

“What?” Neal asked innocently.

“Trying to get into the barista’s pants.”

“I wasn’t. I told you, I just like to flirt sometimes. You’re giving me nothing back this week, despite all my hard work – ”

“I’m not losing this bet,” Peter interrupted.

“Flirting isn’t sex, Peter. Or are you afraid if you flirt back, it would lead to more?”

“Of course not. I just don’t have any desire to flirt with you.”

Neal shrugged. “Fine, but I like flirting. I smiled, she smiled, we said a few words, and now we both feel good.”

“No way,” Peter said. “I know you. You’re always working an angle.”

Neal stopped walking. Peter stopped a couple steps later and looked back at him.

“Is that still what you think of me?” Neal asked quietly. He was frowning, and though his tone was even, Peter could have sworn there was something like hurt in his eyes. That couldn’t be, could it?

Peter spread his arms wide. “Come on, Caffrey. What do you want from me? You’re a criminal, I’m an FBI agent. I’m trained to be suspicious of you. It’s nothing personal.”

“So, outside of your natural suspicion, you trust me?”

Peter sighed. “There are ways in which I trust you, and ways in which I don’t. You don’t break the law anymore, mostly, but you bend the rules wherever you can –”

“Yeah, but now I do it to help people.”

“Okay, but if you didn’t, you’d be sent back to prison!”

Neal blinked, then grimaced, but the expression was quickly gone. He started walking again.

“We should get back,” he said.

Peter threw up his hands, and followed.

They didn’t speak during their walk back to FBI headquarters, and Peter wondered if he was going to have to fix this somehow. But as soon as they started working again, Neal seemed normal, and Peter decided not to worry about it.

***

_Friday_

It’s not like Peter wanted to actually have sex with Neal. But it was impossible not to be a little curious. That was normal, right? Peter was straight, but people were always talking these days about sexuality being liquid or something…

Neal was not straight, which Peter had known since long before he’d caught him. Neal liked women, of course, but not exclusively. Peter had seen pictures of a couple of Neal’s past boyfriends. He seemed to like slightly older men; forties or so.

Not that _that_ meant anything. At all.

Peter had thought about Neal all the time when he was trying to catch him. He’d had to, like El had said. The more Peter knew, or could infer, the easier it would be to figure out Neal’s habits, his patterns. And Peter still had to keep an eye on him, keep thinking about him, because there was always the possibility that Neal was going to take a step too far over the line. Or maybe a giant running leap.

And now, because of this stupid bet, Peter couldn’t help but kind of wonder what Neal would be like in bed. Neal had incredible powers of concentration; it must be…something…to be the object of that focus in a sexual context. And Neal had that con man’s trick of seeming perfectly at ease while actually being on high alert, with near perfect situational awareness. He’d be very attentive, Peter thought, but he wondered if Neal ever relaxed, ever really let go.

Not that Peter wanted to find out.

Their barista was male that day, in his early or mid-forties; a manager stepping in to cover someone’s break, Peter thought. Neal flirted with him shamelessly, and Peter tried to think about the case they were supposed to be working on.

***

_Saturday_

Peter was relieved to have a day off. It had been a long, weird week, and he’d be very glad when Monday rolled around, and he could collect his money and he and Neal could go back to normal. In the meantime, it would be nice to have a quiet day with El and Satchmo.

“I invited Neal over for dinner tonight,” Elizabeth said brightly, when Peter sat down to breakfast.

Peter groaned. “Are you kidding me?”

“Come on, he’s a fun dinner guest! Plus, I want to see him trying to seduce you.” She took a sip of orange juice to try and cover her smirk, but Peter could see the amusement in her eyes.

“Everyone is against me,” Peter said to Satchmo, who was sitting at his feet. “I’m under attack in my own home.” Satchmo wagged his tail, and Peter sighed.

“So, how’s he doing?” Elizabeth asked.

“Badly!” Peter said, indignant. “He has no chance! I told you that on Monday.”

“Just checking in,” Elizabeth murmured, expression a picture of innocence. “It’s been a long week.”

“No, it hasn’t,” Peter said, pretending he wasn’t contradicting his own thought from two minutes ago.

“Well, then there’s no problem with Neal coming to dinner, right?”

Peter sat back in his chair. “No problem at all.”

“Great!” Elizabeth got up to bring her plate to the sink, and kissed Peter’s temple on the way.

“In my very own home,” Peter said to Satchmo.

***

Neal showed up with a fancy bottle of wine (of course), wearing a button-down shirt and slacks.

“Look who dressed down for the occasion,” Peter said, by way of greeting.

“At least I dressed,” Neal said, looking disapprovingly at Peter’s t-shirt and jeans.

“Hey, it’s the weekend. You might love wearing a suit every day, but I like a break. Do you even own jeans?”

“Yeah, and they’d look great on your floor,” Neal said immediately. Peter gave a startled laugh. Neal had been spouting dumb lines all week, but it was strange to hear them in his house. It felt more real, somehow.

“That’s where they would be, because he’s terrible about picking up clothes,” Elizabeth said, entering from the kitchen. Neal grinned at her and they kissed each other’s cheeks.

“Elizabeth! You look great, as always.” He handed her the wine.

“And you have great taste, as always,” she said, examining the label. “I’ll open this.” She headed back towards the kitchen.

“Beer for me, hon,” Peter called.

“Try the wine!” she called back. “It’s better host behavior.”

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I picked one I think you might actually be able to stand,” Neal said.

“How thoughtful.”

“Well, I want us to have fun tonight.” Peter looked at him quickly. Neal’s eyes were sparkling as he tried not to grin.

“I’m sure you and El will have fun,” Peter muttered.

***

Peter hated to admit it, but El was right: Neal was a good dinner guest. He kept El laughing with stories and with absurd flirtations directed at Peter; and though Peter glowered through half the stories and all the flirtatious comments, he knew that at a certain point, he was mostly faking being annoyed.

The wine Neal had brought was actually drinkable for Peter, and after it was gone Neal started mixing cocktails. Despite eating well, they were all pretty drunk after dessert.

Elizabeth suggested they move to the living room, then, and Neal produced a small bottle of limoncello he’d hidden in the fridge when he first arrived and insisted on pouring everyone a glass.

“It’s a digestive,” he said, faux-serious face on, when Elizabeth suggested that they’d had enough alcohol. She laughed and agreed to it.

They talked and laughed for another hour before Elizabeth leaned over to kiss Peter’s cheek.

“I’m falling asleep,” she said. “Too much booze for me. I’m going to bed before you have to carry me there.”

Neal was on his feet immediately. “I should get going,” he said.

“Oh, no, don’t let me break up the party,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You boys have fun.” She winked, and Neal grinned.

She said her goodnights as Neal thanked her for hosting and heaped more praise on her cooking. In a moment, she was up the stairs. The bedroom door closed softly behind her.

Neal looked at Peter. “I can go,” he said.

Peter shrugged. “I’m still drunk enough to be social, but not drunk enough to want to go to bed.”

 “Good. Me, too.”

Neal sat down again, not in the chair he’d been occupying, but on the couch next to Peter, where Elizabeth had been. Peter decided not to comment. It would only encourage him. And anyway, he felt surprisingly relaxed. It was nice, he decided, being friends with Neal.

“Thanks for tonight,” Neal said suddenly.

“Sure,” Peter said. “El loves it when you visit. You make her happy.”

Neal laughed softly. “I charm her,” he said. “If it puts her in a good mood, I’m glad, but you’re the one who makes her happy. Really happy.” He took a sip of his drink – just water now; Elizabeth had insisted, after the limoncello was gone. “I love seeing the two of you together, you know that? What you have is just so…real, and honest.”

“It’s pretty easy, neither of us having criminal records,” Peter agreed. Neal was quiet, and Peter wondered if he’d gone too far, like the other day at the coffee shop.

“I’m going to lie down,” Neal said suddenly, and he maneuvered so he was lying sideways on the couch, legs hanging off the arm, his head in Peter’s lap. He’d unbuttoned his shirt half an hour ago, claiming to be too warm from all the alcohol; he had an undershirt on, but between that and his flushed cheeks and his mussed hair – he’d been running a hand through it, and Peter would have bet his wedding ring it was on purpose – Neal looked almost…debauched. It was a good look on him, but then, he didn’t seem to have a bad look. Neal grinned up at him and Peter blinked.

Neal had angled himself so his head was only kind of on Peter’s knee, so it wasn’t like…No, it _was_ weird, very weird, but Peter was damn sure not going to let Neal know that. So he only laughed, awkwardly.

“Comfy?” Neal asked.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Peter said. “You?”

Neal just kept grinning. But after second the grin faded.

“I mean it, though,” he said. “About you and Elizabeth. I like being around you two. You’re great together. So thanks, for letting me come over and…” He paused, then gave a small laugh. “…Bask. I guess.”

“No problem.” This was so odd. Neal had always been supportive of his relationship with El, but now it seemed like he actually envied it. What – the companionship? It couldn’t be the stability. Neal thrived on chaos.

“What about you?” Neal asked.

“Uh…I also like spending time with El,” Peter hazarded.

Neal laughed. “No. Sorry, I jumped back and forgot to tell you. Drunk.”

Yeah, right. Like Neal ever let himself get more than exactly as drunk as he wanted to be.

“What I meant, was,” Neal continued, “You said earlier that Elizabeth likes it when I visit. What about you?”

“I see you all week and you made me drink wine,” Peter said sardonically. “It’s great.”

Neal looked serious now, all hints of mirth erased from his features. “I don’t want to intrude on your life, Peter.”

“Come on, that’s not what I said,” Peter said. “It’s fine. It can be fun! Even if you and El gang up on me and I’m the butt of all the jokes.”

Neal still didn’t smile. “It’s important to me that…that you think I’m worth your time.”

His eyes were like _lasers_. Peter considered making a joke about how Neal only felt that way because Peter could send him back to prison, but thought better of it. “Why?” he asked finally.

Neal half sat up, never breaking eye contact, supporting himself on the armrest near Peter. Peter felt trapped, although it would have been easy to shove Neal away, if he’d wanted to.

He didn’t want to.

“I don’t know why it’s important to me,” Neal said, voice low. “But it is.”

Peter’s pulse was racing and for a second he thought Neal was going to lean in and kiss him. Even more terrifying, Peter thought maybe he was going to let him.

But Neal only looked at him, and after a moment Peter cleared his throat and looked away.

“I know you’re a decent person at heart, Neal,” he said. “In your own way.” It sounded lame even to him.

Neal exhaled – had he been holding in a breath? – and got up.

“I should head out,” he said.

Peter rose, feeling oddly disappointed. He was still drunk and in a sociable mood, of course. “Are you sure? We could…” He looked around the living room. “Watch a movie, or…”

“Thanks,” Neal said. “But I’m beat. See you Monday.” He offered Peter a tiny smile – it seemed almost sad – and he was gone.

Peter remained standing after the door closed. Monday? What about tomorrow? Had Neal given up so easily?

Well, if he had, then Peter was two hundred dollars richer, with almost no effort. That was great. Great.

Peter finally sat down and turned on the TV, but he couldn’t focus. After ten minutes he turned it off and went upstairs to Elizabeth, and bed.

***

_Sunday_

Peter’s sleep was restless and troubled, and he felt like he was thinking about Neal all night, or dreaming about him, but he couldn’t remember a thing when he woke up.

“Did you boys stay up late?” Elizabeth asked the next morning, as she ate breakfast and Peter nursed a cup of coffee.

“He didn’t stay that long after you went to bed,” Peter replied, frowning.

“What happened?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. It…got weird.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Did you kiss?”

“No!” Peter took a sip of coffee. “Well…almost.”

“Really!”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He said he wanted me to think he’s worthwhile, or something like that. And then there was…sort of a moment…but nothing happened and then he pretty much fled.” Peter looked at Elizabeth. “Why would he say that?”

She looked exasperated. “Neal likes you, hon. He respects you. Of course he wants you to think well of him.”

“Hmm,” Peter replied. “Maybe.”

“Are you going to see him today?”

Peter shook his head. “He said he’d see me Monday.”

Elizabeth put her fork down, frowning. “He doesn’t want one last shot at winning your bet?”

“Apparently not.”

Her frown deepened. “It sounds like he’s upset,” she said. “I think you should drop by.”

“Don’t you think this is probably some seduction tactic? He’s trying to make me be the pursuer, or something.”

“I think your relationship with Neal is important to you, and you owe it to him – and to yourself – to make sure everything is okay,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Go see him.”

***

When Neal answered the door that afternoon and saw Peter, the expression on his face immediately became guarded. Peter proffered a bottle of wine.

“Peace offering,” he said. “It cost less than fifty dollars, so it’s probably not up to your usual standards, but the clerk said it was good.”

Neal took the bottle slowly. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, looking down at it.

“I wanted to.”

“We’re not in a fight, Peter.”

“No? You left pretty suddenly last night.”

“I told you, I was tired.”

“Then, can I come in?”

Neal stepped back reluctantly, moving to put the bottle down on the kitchen counter. Peter shut the door behind him.

“So you do own jeans,” Peter observed. Neal was barefoot, in a t-shirt and jeans.

“You’ve seen me in jeans before, Peter.” Neal picked up a stack of twenties from the kitchen table. “I was going to give you this tomorrow, but since you’re here…” He held out the money. Peter frowned at it.

“What, no more lame pickup lines to throw my way?” he said.

“Fresh out,” Neal said.

“You have the rest of the day to get me into bed,” Peter said, trying to smile. “I can’t believe Neal Caffrey is giving up this easily.”

Neal closed his eyes for a second, a pained expression flashing across his face. Peter’s heart skipped a beat. He’d barely ever seen Neal look this vulnerable.

“Just take the money,” Neal said. When Peter didn’t move, Neal closed the distance between them and tucked the wad of cash into Peter’s pocket. He didn’t even try to touch Peter; in fact, he seemed to be actively trying to avoid it. It was like a reverse pickpocket.

“I don’t care about the bet,” Neal continued, looking right into Peter’s face from inches away. When he started to turn aside, Peter grabbed his wrist without even thinking about it.

Neal looked at him again, and Peter stared into his eyes, trying to get a grip on this situation.

“Do you…actually want this?” Peter asked, slightly stupefied. Neal didn’t say anything, but his face was a mix of sadness and hurt and yes, still vulnerability. He was practically oozing with it.

“The important thing is that you don’t,” Neal said finally. He started to turn away again, but Peter tugged on his arm.

“What?” Neal demanded, sounding angry now. _Oh, I am so, so dumb_ , Peter thought. This absolutely had to be a con, but...still, though.

Peter grabbed the back of Neal’s neck with his free hand and pulled him in. He pressed his lips to Neal’s and, incredibly, Neal was kissing him back immediately. Neal’s hand was in his hair and after a second Neal’s tongue was in his mouth, and everything about this was beyond weird but Peter was past caring.

Neal was herding him back and Peter realized they were heading towards the bed. He let himself fall onto it, glad not to be standing on jelly legs anymore, heart beating so hard with nerves and desire that it almost hurt. Neal knelt over him on the bed, one warm hand creeping under Peter’s t-shirt.

He paused, looking down at Peter with a concerned expression. “Peter…are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Peter said testily. “Do you have to rub it in?”

“I’ll rub something,” Neal murmured, lips quirking slightly.

Peter laughed, louder than the entendre deserved, more of an attempt to relax than real humor. “Enough with the bad – ”

Neal pressed his hand to Peter’s groin and Peter stopped talking abruptly, feeling his face redden. This was faster than he’d anticipated – not that he’d anticipated any of this. ( _But you did_ , he thought, and he realized he’d known what he was going to do when he’d decided to come here; maybe he’d already known last night.) Peter squirmed slightly, responding to the warmth and pressure of Neal’s hand, even through his pants.

Neal looked down at him enigmatically, and then pulled his hand away, to Peter’s simultaneous disappointment and relief. Neal pulled his shirt off and Peter watched his muscles move. He was like a living statue.

Neal was starting to pull Peter’s shirt off, now, and Peter tried to push his hands away.

“This is a really unfair comparison,” he said. Neal smiled and kissed Peter again, long and slow, and Peter couldn’t stop thinking how weird it was that this didn’t feel weirder. It _was_ weird, but it should have felt wrong and it only felt very, very good.

“I want to see you,” Neal said, after the kiss was done, and Peter let Neal strip his shirt off.

“Don’t laugh,” Peter warned him, but Neal just took in his chest with an interested expression and then let his hands land on Peter’s sides, stroking Peter’s stomach with his thumbs and kissing him again.

It was about then that Peter realized that Neal was definitely enjoying this and he wondered, feeling slightly panicky, whether he should be groping Neal like Neal had done to him before, or what.

Neal kissed his neck. “You’ve never been with another man before, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Neal pulled back and grinned at him. “I just wanted to know how slow to go. I don’t want to freak you out.”

“I can take it,” Peter said automatically, only realizing after he said it what a bad choice of words that was. “I mean, not – I don’t think – “

Neal laughed, and lay down next to him. “Relax,” he murmured, pulling Peter onto his side so they were facing each other.

Motivated by a mix of desire and wanting to prove a point, Peter initiated the next kiss. Neal made a pleased sound against his mouth and kissed him back languorously. After a couple minutes, Neal’s hand landed on Peter’s hip and he pulled their lower bodies together. Peter exhaled sharply at the friction and was suddenly aware of how hard he was.

Neal was hard, too, that much was…very clear. But he seemed to be in no hurry, kissing Peter and running his hands over Peter’s skin for long minutes. After awhile Peter started exploring Neal’s skin, too, and Neal made a soft noise, back arching at Peter’s touch.

And after a couple minutes of that, Neal’s hand crept lower and he was deftly unbuttoning Peter’s jeans, sliding down the zipper. Peter’s heart started hammering again, but he didn’t say anything, afraid Neal would stop or slow down again, and he wanted… _oh fuck yeah that_ , he thought, as Neal curled his fingers around his cock.

Peter shut his eyes, breathing hard. Neal was tugging down his pants and briefs with his free hand, and Peter lifted his hips to help him. Then Neal was moving his hand, slowly, teasing. A swipe of his thumb across the head made Peter gasp and he opened his eyes to see Neal staring at him, a hungry look in his intense eyes.

Peter could feel himself flushing again, so to avoid further embarrassment he pulled Neal into a kiss. Only it didn’t work, because when Neal sucked in a breath and started moving his hand faster on Peter’s cock, Peter gave a low, involuntary moan.

But Neal moaned in response, and his hand slowed again, which Peter quickly realized was because Neal was undoing his own pants.

Neal, apparently, didn’t wear underwear. Of _course_ he didn’t. Peter tried not to stare, but Neal pulled away, rolling onto his back, and seemed to be putting himself on display as he shucked his jeans. He somehow managed to make undressing look attractive, which Peter highly resented. Neal’s cock jutted out from his body and boy, this was weird again, but Peter couldn’t stop staring until he realized Neal was watching him, with a pleased, slightly amused expression.

“Sorry,” Peter said.

“For what?” Neal grinned, looking and moving like a cat as he stretched luxuriously, all sinewy grace. “I want you to look.”

Peter had to look away, at that, and he busied himself shoving his pants and briefs the rest of the way off, knowing he did not make undressing look good, while he composed himself.

When he was done he looked at Neal for a beat, then realized what was surely next.

“I should…” He reached in the general direction of Neal’s groin. “Shouldn’t I?”

“If you want to,” Neal said quietly, watching him.

Peter hesitated for a second, but – in for a penny, in for a pound. He gripped Neal’s cock, and Neal hissed in pleasure. Peter moved his hand experimentally, trying to do to Neal what he did to himself.

Neal’s eyes closed, hips rising. “Yeah,” he breathed, but to Peter it still felt awkward and strange, and after a moment Peter released Neal’s cock, feeling like an idiot.

“I thought it would be easier,” he said, apologetically. Neal opened his eyes and smiled at him.

“It’s different, with another person,” he said, rolling on his side to face Peter again. “Takes some getting used to. It’s okay.” He hesitated, looking at Peter musingly. “I’d really love to suck your dick.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he wasn’t sure if he felt more arousal or alarm.

Neal laughed softly. “But maybe not today,” he concluded. He kissed Peter, then maneuvered them so their bodies were flush and their erections pressed together, which felt…well, weird, but also good, and better when Neal wrapped his hand around them both and started moving it slowly.

“Oh,” Peter said, slightly surprised. So this was a thing.

A pretty good thing, he thought, and kissed Neal while Neal got a rhythm going for them. He took it slow at first, but gradually sped up, until Peter was panting and trying not to let his hips jerk too much and throw them off.

“Oh, fuck,” Peter said eventually. “Neal, I’m gonna…”

“Me too,” Neal gasped, sliding his hand even faster. Peter groaned and felt himself falling over the edge, and Neal’s cock was pulsing against his, and Peter could have sworn that Neal said his name, but it was very soft and it was probably a hallucination brought on by…all this weirdness, and not enough blood in his brain.

Neal kissed him fiercely after they were done and Peter kissed him right back. Then Neal rolled to grab a box of tissues from the bedside table, offering them to Peter and then taking a few for himself.

“Always so fastidious,” Peter said.

Neal grinned wickedly at him. “Old habits. I don’t like to leave evidence behind.”

Peter got up to throw his tissues away. On his way back to the bed, he picked up his pants and chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well,” he said cheerfully. “You win.”

“What?”

Peter fished the twenties out of his pants and held them up. “You were right. You can seduce anybody.” He put the cash on the nightstand. “I’ll get you your money tomorrow.”

Still smiling, he glanced at Neal. Neal was not wearing the triumphant smirk Peter had expected. In fact, he looked totally shut down, and his face was suddenly bloodless, a stark contrast to the aroused flush of a few minutes ago.

“I don’t care about the fucking bet.” Neal spat the words, and Peter blinked in surprise.

“Neal,” he said blankly. “I didn’t mean – come on, you won!”

Neal rose and began pulling his pants on, shaking his head.

“I told you,” he said. He sounded furious. “I told you I hate honeypots. Somebody always ends up getting hurt.” He picked the money up from the bedside table. “Take this.”

“Neal – ”

“Take it!” Neal threw it at him. Peter caught it reflexively. “Take Elizabeth somewhere nice.” A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Or get her a present. Or something. I don’t care. Take it and get out.”

He stalked off towards the bathroom. Peter jumped when the door slammed behind him.

Peter dressed slowly. Neal didn’t come out, and when he was ready, Peter stood by the bathroom door for a moment, hesitating.

“Neal – ” he said finally.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” Neal sounded more resigned than angry. Peter pressed his fingers to his temples and then wheeled around and headed out the door.

***

“So,” Peter said to Elizabeth, an hour or so later, having told her the whole story. “What do you think? What is he so upset about?”

Elizabeth heaved a sigh. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, what?”

She frowned at him over her cup of tea. “How can you be a genius FBI agent and still be this dumb about people?”

“This is why I have you.” Peter tried a charming smile, but he knew he wasn’t that great at it.

Elizabeth smiled at him fondly. “Neal has feelings for you,” she said quietly. “The bet was just an excuse to act on them.”

Peter sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn it. That was what I thought, too, after today.”

“Then why did you need me to tell you?!”

“Because I had to be sure I wasn’t going crazy!”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear you figured it out,” Elizabeth said wryly.

“But, I mean – come on. That can’t possibly be true.”

“It is not only true, it’s obvious, to anyone who knows you both well enough. Which I do.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“Well, I want to fix things with him. We can’t work together if we’re…” Peter waved a hand vaguely. “Whatever we are.”

“How do you want things to be?”

“Like they were before.”

“That’s it?”

“How else could they be?”

“You could be together.” Elizabeth sipped her tea. Peter goggled.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Would you want that?”

“No!”

“Well, that’s what you said a week ago about sleeping with him.”

“How would that even…I’m married! To you!”

“I’ve been doing some reading about polyamory,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. She grabbed a book and a stack of printouts from the side table. “I’m open to it, if you and Neal want to be together.”

Peter stared at the papers, then looked back up at Elizabeth. “Do I want to be with him?”

Elizabeth smiled. “That one, you’re going to have to figure out for yourself,” she said.

“Can I have a clue?”

She laughed. “I think your powers of deduction are up to the challenge.”

***

_Monday_

Neal called in sick. This was an obvious ruse, because Neal was never sick. Last winter, Peter had gotten three colds in two months and Neal had never even sneezed.

Peter called Elizabeth on his lunch break. She sounded worried at the news.

“I think you’d better go over there again,” she said.

Peter went straight to Neal’s apartment after work. Neal took a long time to answer the door, and when he did, he was in a bathrobe. He did look tired and drawn, but then he coughed, so fake it didn’t even seem like he was trying.

“Hi, Peter,” he said, voice rough; still fake. “Everything okay?”

“Just checking on you,” Peter said. “You’ve never been sick a day in your life, so…”

“Something’s going around,” Neal said vaguely. “Anyway, thanks for dropping by. I’m sure I’ll be fine to come in tomorrow, so…”

He tried to shut the door but Peter grabbed it. “Come on, Neal,” he said. “We should talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He wasn’t even trying to fake the sick voice anymore.

“Neal – ”

“I just need some space, Peter. It’ll be fine.” Neal shut the door firmly in Peter’s face.

Peter stared at it. “You’re worth my time,” he hollered.

After a second, the door opened again. “What?” Neal demanded.

“What you asked me, the other night. Of course you’re worth my time. Why else would I give you so much of it?”

“Because I help you catch criminals.” Neal grimaced. “Criminals like me.”

“I mean, yeah, of course, but it’s not just that.” Peter swallowed. “I like you, Neal. Even before we started working together. I couldn’t help it.”

Neal smiled slowly; it was faint, but it seemed sincere. “Well, I’m a likeable guy.”

“And I know you like to help people. It’s kind of amazed me, how altruistic you’ve turned out to be. I thought you’d only be in it for the chance to outsmart people again, but I can tell some of these cases really mean something to you.”

Neal looked at Peter for a beat. “Thanks for saying that. It means a lot.”

“Well, I meant it.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Neal started to close the door, but Peter caught it again.

“Hang on,” he said. “That’s not all.”

Neal paused, frowning. Peter tried to figure out how to say this.

“El’s been researching, uh, polyamory?” he said finally. “I read some last night, it’s weird, but I guess it could work, and anyway, she said she’s open to it, if you and I wanted to be together.”

Neal blinked at him for a second, then finally opened the door wide. “Come in, Peter.”

Peter entered cautiously. Neal was taking off his robe and laying it over a kitchen chair. He had just an undershirt and pajama bottoms on underneath. El had been right; he must’ve really been upset. Neal was not the type to hang out in PJs all day.

Peter shut the door behind him, but didn’t move further into the apartment, unsure if Neal would want him to.

“So you want to be together? Like, date, I assume that means?” Neal said.

Peter nodded slowly. “I think so.”

Neal shook his head slightly, that muscle in his jaw jumping. “I need you to be sure.”

“I mean, I can’t predict how it’s going to go – ”

“I know that. But I need you to be sure you want to try.”

Peter took a deep breath and thought about it, again. He’d been thinking about it all day and night, but just to be certain…

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I want to try. For sure, I want to.”

“You’re not even attracted to men,” Neal said.

Peter shrugged. “No. But I’m attracted to you.”

Neal padded over to him, getting very close. “Are you sure?” he said, staring into Peter’s eyes.

Peter could feel himself getting red as he gave Neal the once-over, as much as he could when Neal was suddenly allergic to personal space. Neal still looked good; smelled good; and now, Peter had the memory of that impossible body against his, Neal’s hands warm on his skin…

Oh, he was so screwed.

“I’m really sure,” Peter said finally.

Neal leaned in and kissed him, then, and Peter kissed him right back, afraid to hesitate – not that he felt hesitant, except maybe in how new this still was.

Peter was the one dragging them towards the bed this time, but when they got there, Neal pushed him down and began removing his suit with those nimble fingers. Peter’s coat and tie were off in a heartbeat, and then Neal slowed down to a snail’s pace as he unbuttoned Peter’s shirt, kissing his way down Peter’s chest while Peter tried to remember how to breathe. And then Neal sped up again, and Peter found himself naked in what felt like seconds, with Neal kneeling between his legs and grinning up at him. It was a relief to see Neal looking like himself, even if this was a very new perspective.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Neal said.

“We did yester– oh fuck.” Peter did not swear very often, but Neal had just taken Peter’s whole cock into his mouth, and it was hard to think anything besides swears.

Neal gave a pleased hum and Peter shut his eyes. He was getting hard so fast he thought he might pass out. Neal was taking it slow, exploring his cock with his lips and tongue, fingers playing over Peter’s hips, stomach, thighs. Breathing hard, Peter tried to just focus on how good it felt, and not how strange this still was. Good strange, but…

Something was bothering him, and it wasn’t until Neal pulled off him that Peter’s brain worked well enough to remember what it was.

“How – ”

“Practice,” Neal interrupted, grinning. Peter gave him a look.

“That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“Are you sure?” Neal swirled his tongue around the head of Peter’s cock and Peter couldn’t suppress a moan.

“How long did you want to do this?” Peter asked, when his eyes could focus again. Neal had a hand around Peter’s cock now and he stroked him slowly. He smiled.

“Since the first time I met you,” he said casually.

Peter swallowed. Neal must have felt his cock jump at that, but if he had, he didn’t give any indication, just kept watching Peter.

“That can’t be.”

Neal laughed. “You’re my type, Peter. You must have figured that out when you were looking into my old boyfriends.”

“Well…”

Neal was stroking him a little faster now. “The first time I saw you I thought, ‘Oh fuck, he’s hot.’ And it occurred to me that you might actually be able to catch me.” He grinned. “Because I thought I might want to let you.”

Peter felt slightly dizzy. “You’re kidding.”

Neal shook his head. He was gradually ramping up the pace of his hand. “I used to fantasize about you catching me. Alone. And I’d ask, well, isn’t there anything I can do, Agent, to convince you to let me go?”

Peter’s breath came in a gasp and he covered his eyes with one hand. “Jesus, Neal – ”

“Something like this, maybe,” Neal said quietly, and his mouth was on Peter’s cock again, and he was certainly not going slow this time, cheeks hollowed and tongue active. Neal was _swallowing him down_ ; jesus christ, Peter thought, people could actually do that outside of pornos?

It felt _ridiculously_ good, and Neal was bobbing his head in time with the jerk of Peter’s hips and moaning around him, and it didn’t take long at all before Peter was coming with a short cry, the pleasure almost unbearable as Neal’s throat worked and finally he pulled off slowly.

Neal sat back on his heels, looking down at Peter with an unreadable expression.

“You okay?” Peter said, after it seemed like the silence had gone on a little too long.

“Are you?” Neal asked.

Peter laughed softly. “Do you have to ask?”

“Kinda do,” Neal replied. He looked serious.

Peter smiled at him. “Never better.”

Neal nodded, but he still looked wary. “What now?”

Right. Now. Peter could see Neal’s erection through his thin pajama pants; god, there was even a small wet spot where the head was pressed to the fabric. Neal had liked doing that so much he was _leaking_. Peter thought if he’d been ten or twenty years younger, he could have gotten half-hard again from that knowledge alone.

But he wasn’t, and it was Neal’s turn, Neal who – understandably – seemed unsure if Peter was actually up to the challenge.

Peter wasn’t entirely certain, himself. But he’d never let that stop him before and it wasn’t going to stop him now.

“Strip,” he said. Neal blinked, and Peter felt pleased. He was so rarely able to surprise Neal.

Neal pulled his shirt over his head slowly, and once again managed to make a show of taking off his pants, sliding them down his hips and carefully past his erection before letting them fall to the floor. Peter watched, limbs heavy with post-orgasm languor, but when Neal was done, Peter made himself sit up on the bed.

“Lie down,” he said. Neal swallowed and obeyed without a word. Peter was surprised not to get a quip or at least a smirk, but Neal only stared up at him intensely.

Peter looked Neal up and down for a moment – god, he looked like one of his own reproductions of Renaissance art. Finally he leaned down and kissed Neal, letting his hand skim down Neal’s body. Neal arched up into his touch, and Peter took a minute to explore his chest and stomach, listening to the small, breathy sounds Neal made when Peter passed over one of his nipples.

Finally, Peter settled down on his side, pressed in close to Neal, and wrapped his hand around Neal’s cock. Neal gave a low moan and his eyes fell closed, hips rising. Just like yesterday, but Peter was not about to give up this time.

Peter stroked him slowly at first, wanting to watch this play out. His wrist hurt in two minutes, but he ignored it. As he started going faster, Neal flung an arm up over his head. He started whispering “Peter, Peter,” over and over again and Peter thought yeah, if he were a little younger, he’d be ready to go again right this second.

Finally Peter squeezed hard and started pumping his fist as fast as he could. Neal actually _whimpered_ , hips pistoning in time with Peter’s strokes and then his whole body tensed and his mouth fell slack and he came; silently, to Peter’s considerable surprise.

Peter stared down at Neal; the milky drops on his stomach, his cock red and softening slowly (since when was a scene like this so hot to him? _Since Neal_ , he thought), and then finally back up at Neal’s face.

It looked strange. Not unhappy; Neal was grinning at him, which was hardly unfamiliar. But something about it was off. Finally, Peter figured it out. Neal was _relaxed_. There was no hint of a con man’s calculation, or careful consideration.

He’d never seen Neal look like that.

“Can you – ” Neal started, but Peter leaned down and kissed him. It was impossible not to.

Neal made a surprised, pleased sound and kissed him back enthusiastically. When Peter finally let him up, Neal looked even happier.

“Tissues?” was all he said, and Peter handed him the box and watched him clean himself up. When he was done, Neal tossed the tissues at the waste basket – and missed – and rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around Peter and making a contented sound. He nuzzled Peter’s chest.

Peter put his arms around Neal and stroked his hair, exhaling slowly. With the excitement of sex gone, this was kind of weird again. But…He glanced down at Neal’s face, which was still bizarrely guileless. This was weird, maybe, but a good weird. A really, really good weird.

The door to Neal’s rooms banged open. “Apparently, no one in this city appreciates perfectly good ducklings,” came Mozzie’s clearly recognizable voice.

“Mozzie, no!” Neal shouted, but Mozzie had already rounded the corner. He stared at them for a split second, eyes wide, then turned around.

“I’ll give you a moment to get decent, and to recover from your shame,” he announced, back to them.

“Mozzie, get out of here,” Neal said, laughing, as Peter scrambled to cover himself.

“Oh, damn it!” Mozzie said suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Neal asked.

“Now I owe Mrs. Suit fifty dollars,” Mozzie said ruefully. “I thought the Suit was way too repressed to ever go for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what Mozzie was trying to accomplish with the ducklings, but please rest assured that they are safe, healthy, and happy.


End file.
